Browsed byCategory: Book Reviews

Looking backwards and wondering ‘what if’ is an exercise that requires care and some measure of wisdom. However, we need to engage in the ‘what if’ questions to nurture reflexivity and so challenge ourselves to be energised by the possibilities of change.

So here is a question – if you could turn the clock back what would you change about the way you were educated? What have the processes of formal or informal learning given you for life? Where are the gaps in our understanding? What perplexes us still? What might you need to equip yourself for this present stage of your living and loving?

In my northern grammar school the regimented and often over-controlled systems and processes of teaching were focused on output, exams and success. The teaching was variable and I now lament the sheer lack of space between lessons, between days and between subjects. At one level, my secondary school education served me well in giving me an appetite for hard work, a capacity for good organisation and an ability to absorb information quickly. It opened the door to university and I have since then more or less been engaged in further education, research and writing. In addition, of course, I belong to a generation that has never paid a penny for their higher education and I doubt I would be writing this piece today had the current system been in place in 1979. However, I can see its limitations and feel its inadequacies in its formative influence over my attitude to work, productivity and aspirations.

These questions are the background to some of my thinking when I picked up this extraordinarily bold and adventurous question that Martha Nussbaum asks in her widely acclaimed book, Not for Profit: Why Democracy Needs the Humanities. (Princeton University Press 2010), ‘What kind of education might enable us to inhabit our complex and often fragmented democracy?’

The argument goes something like this. We are nurturing a generation of young people whose lives have been dominated by the idols of individualism, materialism and consumerism. This shaping of our values within a capitalist economy often controls our choice of subjects at school and university. Once upon a time we wanted to be educated – we now want to be, Nussbaum argues, schooled for financial success. This has so dominated our curriculum that we are producing a generation incapable of living with paradox, contradiction and anxiety.

Drawing down upon Western and non-Western philosophy and educational theory the reader is asked how we might embrace a more imaginative capacity that can nurture perception, human growth, a wider horizon of what it might mean for us to flourish as human beings in community. We need to be skilled in these arts. We neglect the imagination and the cultivation of our inner eyes. This deficiency has extraordinary dangers for all parts of our life. We are alerted to a silent crisis in which nations either disregard or discard the skills that the arts and humanities give to society in favour of national profit. As the arts and humanities are diminished, we live with the consequences of an erosion of the very qualities that are essential to democracy.

The arguments and questions here are reflected in so many ways in our churches. If we are to embrace diversity and good disagreement principles, we need to teach one another how to nurture the critical thinking skills required for an independence of spirit and action. We all need to learn an intelligent resistance to the power of blind tradition and authority. The nurture of curiosity and imagination offers a more textured approach to growth and change. When we step outside of our own preoccupations and limitations learning to imagine the situations of others is a fundamental requirement for a successful democracy that is committed to everyone’s flourishing.

Our churches are no exception to the misuse of power and the exploitation of our human limitations. In some ways, we all need a lesson in how we can get along with others without maintaining total control. To do this we need to open ourselves up to the experience of vulnerability and surprise, to curiosity and wonder. This adventure in learning is made possible through music, poetry, art, theatre and storytelling. They can all help us live with the limitations present in all of life and powerful in the way that they face us with pernicious and dangerous dynamics of anxiety, disgust and shame. These powerful emotions are a universal response to our human helplessness.

Perhaps I am bound to say that theology and good spiritual formation can help us through the realities of that culture that both shapes and mis-shapes us? Churches are wise in their understanding of our mutual need and interdependency. We must learn to step out of our small worlds into a larger horizon of radical transformation that comes with identifying with common human predicaments. When we see the world through the lens of many types of vulnerability then imagination is released to do its work.

So we might ask ourselves: how do we come to see people as real and equal? How does our public theology help us to cultivate imagination so that we are able to be an equal amongst equals? The churches have a role and responsibility to enable our commitment to global citizenship for the good of all. Slowing up, taking a longer view, and asking what we can do to contribute to well-being through the relational, the pastoral and the releasing possibilities of empathy are concrete ways of putting our education into practice.

I am reminded of words I heard from Maya Angelou at an international conference in Washington DC some 10 years ago: ‘I have learned that people will soon forget what you said, they will eventually forget what you did but they will never forget how you made them feel.’

So – go on – think about a conversation or some practice that will nurture and imagination in your community. Consider the gaps and your power and ability to make a transformative difference within a larger horizon of love.

Having successfully downsized my living and therefore ‘storage’ arrangements I think twice about buying a book! I was, however, immediately drawn to this political autobiography, not least because on the two occasions I met Gordon Brown I found him humane, reflective and generous. Retired politicians, we are told, are generally more attractive than practising ones because possibly they can no longer do any harm.

This is a life meticulously well written with a careful attention to detail. There is an openness and self-awareness to his narrative alongside some inspiringly articulated set of convictions about wanting to create a better and more equal world,

‘Politics was more than the art of the possible; it was about making the desirable possible’.

Interesting to ask how any of us maintain a balance between the pragmatic and the ideal. In this at the beginning of the first chapter Brown describes the leadership in this way:

‘leaders need a command of substance, mastery of detail, problem-solving skills and an ability to see the big picture… Leaders need to communicate a positive vision of the future that can inspire and motivate people and mobilise enthusiasm for progress and change’.

I share some sympathy with Brown as is honest about the relationship between the public and the private in his life and character. Over and again he stresses how private he is, how out of sympathy with what he calls “public displays of emotion” in a “touchy-feely era”.

And lest we moved too quickly into judgement or condemnation we all want to feel that ours is a life well lived and even perhaps that we have left the world a better place as a result of our energy and passion? It is understandable therefore that Brown wants to put the record straight and indeed go further in articulating what he felt he achieved in high public office.

Brown tells us very clearly that Blair did break a promise that he would step down as prime minister in favour of Brown during the second term. We also learn, despite a wide variety of accounts to the contrary that she and Blair were not permanently at loggerheads. Brown put some distance between his role in the Iraqi war and informs his reader that it was he that saved Britain from membership of the euro. It is, perhaps, impossible for any reader to evaluate some of these judgements except to say for this one there is a quality of reflectiveness in this text that was encouraging, illuminating and convincing. We glimpse a picture of the almost impossibility of survival in 10 Downing Street given the sheer pace of change and movement in communication. The relentlessness of it all is tiring even in the reading of events, challenges and difficulties.

Brown is most disarming when he describes his upbringing. The security and influence of being born a minister’s son clearly shaped his values and worldview. His passion for Scotland and especially Fife where he now lives. His fortitude and driven us at Edinburgh University. His love for John Smith and a reminder of the sheer unpredictability of politics. His heart-breaking loss of the death of his baby daughter Jennifer and his own, quite literal, blindness in one of his eyes. Brown’s honesty and vulnerability are disarming and attractive in equal measure.

Brown reveals himself as a profound intellect and thinker. He knows about the depth and seriousness of our alienation from politics. He describes accurately the fraudulent Tory rhetoric misrepresenting a global banking collapse as a failure of Labour politics. He connects this decade’s two referendums (Scotland and Brexit) on the consequence of previous political dishonesty. His anger, his greatest anger is kept for what he describes as a callous enforcement of austerity that has generated inequality and inflicted needless suffering on the poor and unprotected. We would all do well to consider, whatever our political allegiances, the fact that the financial sector has paid out a total of £128 billion in bonuses since 2008.

Such a life narrated will have its limitations, its shortcomings and even flaws. The reader will take a variety of judgements on those. We need more stories that can help us understand the world we are living in. We need more people to empower individuals and communities to work together for sustainable inclusion and change. Politics is part of the picture not the whole canvas and we would be right to be cautious in so assigning responsibility for failure in the direction of politicians that we absolve ourselves of any part in working for solutions to some of the serious challenges that face us.

We all have partial sight and live with significant dollops of ignorance which constrain and limit us. Self-knowledge is a long, a lifelong journey. Honesty is painful. With this in mind we might forgive Gordon some of his own limitations but also be prepared to honour and respect his contribution, his struggle, his challenge to us all to play our part in delivering a bigger, fairer and more equal society.

This is giant of a text from the priest with long experience of ministry, learning, leadership and reflective practice. The coherence and authority of this experience and skill as a reflective practitioner is demonstrated through the ten chapters that explore the life and work of Pierre-Andre Liege. One of the foremost French theologians of the 20th century, Liege influenced John XXIII and Paul VI. He was present during some of the committee work of the Vatican II with both the future John Paul II and Benedict XVI. Bradbury establishes a legacy forged out of struggle, critical engagement with the nature of theology and some innovative pioneering pastoral work. There is an authenticity about this work, which is rooted in decades of engagement, reflection and practice.

Its central thesis is that this French Catholic friar, who died nearly four decades ago has much to teach us about Pastoral theology. The arguments set out in these 10 chapters is all the more compelling as Bradbury applies some of this theological legacy to engage with ministry and theological learning 21st-century Britain. Here is a framework that offers us the opportunity to see the world in the name of the gospel. In order to do this we have to be both inculturated and countercultural.

Timothy Radcliffe in the forward offers us this image,

‘The church is like a tree. She can only flourish if she is herself, with her own character and life… But the church is only alive if it is interacting with all that is around it, like the tree, open to the air and the soil, in constant exchange with its environment’ (p ix)

A challenging and organising presupposition of this volume is transformation and a commitment to theology as a source for rejuvenating the People of God. It follows that in order to deepen the wisdom of our faith as something which is both pastoral and practical then we shall need to fall in love (again) with theology. This is a significant task as we learn the language of theology and connect it with the struggle to live authentically.

Very few research projects do not have a significant element of personal autobiography. In the introduction, Bradbury explains his journey of faith influenced by the Community of the Resurrection at Mirfield and as a choirboy at Christ Church Oxford. Theological study is influenced by Nineham, Tillich and H.A. Williams and was put to work in testing and demanding communities in South London and North London. As these influences are mapped, the reader notes the fundamental importance of how and where we learn our theology. The process of growing and maturing that takes place across the life-cycle opens up an acknowledgement of our ‘knowing’ as a constant and never-ending process. Bradbury sets a tone in these opening pages of being ready to live with questions and seek always to go deeper into our experience.

Chapter One sets Liege in the context of mid-20th-century French Catholicism and an anachronistic theology largely inherited from the Middle Ages that had become defensive and created a church under siege. Perhaps implicit in this picture is the encouragement to 21st-century European Christians that ironically and paradoxically despite all of the marginalisation and decline of the Church the years from 1930 to 1960 became the golden age for French theology. If we in our day are feeling marginalised, misunderstood or dismissed then what might be the potentiality for theological transformation? Bradbury is drawn into the militant and progressive voice. We learn about a movement of lay people demanding to be taught a realistic apologetic. Rejecting authoritarian prohibitions there was a call for a spirituality, which takes human love seriously.

The argument here is that those of us who would wish to develop a systematic and coherent Pastoral theology must be fully immersed in new contexts and practices. What might it mean for us to re-constitute theological soil for new and different practice for human flourishing? What does theological renewal look like? There are some implications here as Bradbury describes the significant and ongoing conflict with Rome (pages 19ff) for the necessary resistance of any centralised authority (in this case the Pope) to control belief or practice for mission and ministry. We need, perhaps to reassess the nature of authority and how it is exercised in order to become more radical, more theological, and more transformational. The context within which Liege wrote was not in any way anti-intellectual or obsessive about social activism. It committed itself to a deeper understanding of theology which liberated its ideas from second-hand constructs locked into doctrinal armour. The adventure of learning theology was to engage with the sources of the faith so as to be able to know and love them personally.

Chapter 2 paints a portrait of Liege the man. His family background, education, Dominican studies, ministry and theology are described giving the reader a sense of the man and his motivations, his church and his drivenness. Here is innovation, a deep desire to make a difference and a theology that manages to be both concrete and experimental. We learn of his work with the Second Vatican Council (p42ff) and something of Liege’s personality, his passionate confidence in God and rootedness in faith. ‘Where was the eloquent witness of joy in life and freedom as children of God who were able to radiate simply because of the knowledge of being immensely loved? ( Liege asks) It follows that it is up to each of us to show the Church as an assembly of free people, concerned with the liberation of the whole being’ (p49).

In Chapter 3 Bradbury looks set how theology, and what kind of theology shapes Pastoral theology. He is realistic about both the possibilities and problems associated with getting inside Liege’s thought world and modes of expression. Here perhaps we see some of the foundations of why Bradbury finds the tradition of French Catholic theology so attractive. There is a quality of the training in depth in philosophy (and possibly history too) before theology. This rigorous and lengthy process seems hardly imaginable in today’s academy or church. Bradbury describes a distinctive quadrilateral – the Word of God; faith; theology and the life of the church as set out by Liege. The Section on the description of faith is especially compelling – we learn about a grasp of the nature of faith, which is always and successively seen as conversion, justification, illumination and penetration of the Christian mystery. (Page 66). Faith is also described as knowledge of interiority (page 68). We should also note the originality of Liege, especially as a theologian who used the phrase –People of God – long before its popularisation. We are drawn into an admiration for the argument for a modern, reformed approach to the world. The world belongs to the divine intention and should not be regarded as alien or godless.

Bradbury sets out Liege’s pioneering pastoral theology from 1955 to 1977 in Chapter 4. There is something contemporary in this discussion. How do we make theology more practical? (page 81). Our sense of the man is enlarged as we read, ‘for Liege faith was a living, breathing affair; a personal adventure and commitment costing not less than everything. It combined head and heart. It was not an emotional enthusiasm disconnected from thought. On the contrary, it was the fruit of hard philosophical and theological labour enriched with sharp observation of people and nature, a passion for literature and an interest in the human sciences.’ (p77). There is here also some anticipation of some of the realities of 21st Century church life. During this period in the mid-20th century we learn of the conviction that the era of Christianity was over and that it was important to move forward and articulate the gospel to the modern world in different and more credible ways. Traditional Christianity as currently expressed by the church is described as moribund and theology had an inability to communicate, inspiring more fear than love; more negativity and constriction than life and creativity. (p79). Liege expresses a deep desire for human, spiritual and congregational growth.

As Bradbury describes this pioneering pastoral theology it is clear that there is a heavy emphasis on content and its relationship to dogmatics. It is always related to action (‘Pastoral theology’s task is to work out how faithfully to adapt appropriately rather than to get stuck in unmoving, fixed positions. It must unite freedom and truth as the spirit is united to history’ (p88)). The inevitable implication for this is the integration of Pastoral and practical theology in every aspect of Christian living in community. We note the radical place of this discipline in building a transformed picture of the church and its very purposes (page 127). This is a Pastoral theology, which has many functions: contemplative and doxological, apologetic, critical, hermeneutic and poetic (p100).

Chapter 5 discusses Liege and practical theology in France and Canada since his death in 1979. It is interesting to note that Protestant theologians did not keep abreast of Roman Catholic Pastoral theology. Bradbury argues (page 114) the Church of England’s failure to read the signs of the time and engage critically with its culture is part of its defensive resistance to new and different thinking. There are important and ongoing questions about who does theology and the relationship of power and agency within those institutions that make competing claims about the authority and ownership of the tasks of theological education. Bradbury reminds us that there has been an institutional loss of authority and a general loss of faith as the gap increases between what is official and what people actually practice. (Page 117).

Chapter 6 is an impressive contextualisation of Liege in the place of British Pastoral theology as an emerging and developing discipline. The reader is faced with intriguing questions about how we train clergy and what the curriculum might look like. We are asked to reflect on why British practical theology has no equivalent to writing like Liege’s. Bradbury asserts that corporate Christian life and the Church of England seems more a matter of taste or local tradition. There is no corporate catechetics, mission or formation (page 127).

Here we see articulated by Bradbury what we might learn from the distinctive vision of Liege – ‘Deep in the Church of England’s mind-set there is a reluctance to act on the corporate nature of belonging to the church. It seems acceptable to belong as a consumer on your own terms to suit your own tastes.….. Learning and mission are not its core activities. Learning is optional.’ (p127).

It is worth noting that Bradbury offers a very realistic but often unarticulated view of the role of the writing of Wesley Carr. He critiques Carr’s work and its language as too abstract, too difficult, too theoretical and insufficiently illustrated with concrete examples to be of any practical use (page 141). We listen to a plea for a popular and accessible discourse that can change practice. How can we interpret people’s experience of life in relation to God and thus put them into a divine perspective? The challenge continues when we explore an ecclesiology of Anglicanism which is described as an organisation more based on religion than on faith (page 147). If religious attitudes in Britain are an amalgam of beliefs constructed from upbringing, education and the culture of eclectic secular pluralism then we need a theological revolution with pastoral and practical theology at the heart of the task of learning and making connections.

Chapter 7 translates some significant and at times over stated assertions into a fictional narrative about a parish and its life between the years 1948 and 1984. Bradbury demonstrates what putting Liege’s theology into practice might look like. He maps out a programme of teaching, a model of ministry, an approach to witness and discipleship. Bradbury emphasises the importance of the training of the leader. This is a playful, aspirational narrative but one which could be profitably used for theological formation and reflection. Bradbury demonstrates his own ability as a practical theologian in offering a plan of action for praxis.

Finally chapter 8 and chapter 9 articulate learning about catechetics and practical theology. How is the lived experience of the church to be one in which Christians are nurtured in faith? How is the call to lifelong conversion into Christ to be realised in practice? How are Christians to relate to the culture around them? What does it mean to be a holy congregation? How is the sacramental life of the church to find practical expression in a congregation and issue inappropriate missionary, Pastoral and political response to the world? (Page 182). Part of the solution, Bradbury is convinced by, is that the Church of England will continue to slowly die if it continues to neglect the shape and content of catechesis. We need leaders, especially bishops who can continue to ask fundamental practical theological questions.

Bradbury argues that it is diffuse and needs to recover a heart and a centre.

‘British practical theologians seem willing to let this discipline be a meeting room in which diverse conversations are encouraged. The role of practical theologians is to hold the ring, provide methods, ask questions and contribute some, always fragmentary, ideas from their own, nearly always highly specialised, particular area of interest and research’ (page 190). Bradbury challenges the practical theologian to develop a much more systematic approach, with a controlling centre and clear paths to the periphery. Is it possible to have a systematic British Pastoral theology? This is perhaps the heart of Bradbury’s learning from the work of Liege.

In the final section of chapter 9 Bradbury offers what he describes as a plan of action – a proposal for a response to the challenges of the church in the British context. He organises his schema around the following areas of reflection and question: a wholescale review of church praxis; a map of where we are; establishing why the gospel is still good news for today; the organisation of parish life on the basis of theological criteria; the forging of accessible discourse; the rediscovery of French practical theology and finally establishing a vision of what the church is for and why – and how this should be expressed in practice.

The final chapter offers a short reflection on Liege’s legacy. Bradbury sums up the radical prophetic approach in this way – ‘to do the wrong thing is a serious as to believe the wrong thing’ (page 203.). This establishes radical criteria for action by attacking the non-theological pragmatism of current catechetics that offer no clear principles or content to practical theology. Bradbury offers this attractive summary,

‘He (Liege) was committed to incarnating the love of God in action. Despite the depth of his loyalty to the church, faithfulness to God as his theology understood God, required him to stay true to his thought and convictions even when they brought him into conflict with the church in terms of theology, church practice or moral teaching. He did not compromise his beliefs for any institution. He was a man of friendship for whom shared eating and drinking were milestones of life and a primary model of celebration.…

British prophets like Trevor Huddleston or Ken Leech are perhaps parallels. But in general the British model of Christian life is more compromised and more domestic. ‘Liege would press practical theologians to face up to a radical question, his abiding challenge to 21st-century church: what form of Eucharistic community living is suitable for Christians in an era of post Christianity?’ (Page 208)

There is a comprehensive bibliography of over 30 pages, which indicates the nature, and scope of the author’s readership and scholarship together with a comprehensive index. The questions and challenges that Bradbury faces us with some of the work core to the aspiration of this journal and demands how we integrate our theology into practice.

Reviewed by: James Woodward, Principal of Sarum College, Salisbury and Visiting Professor of Theology, the University Winchester UK

All those engaged in learning and teaching will have a system for organising books and resources of information. They may be, inevitably, a number of systems that may range from ad-hoc freedom through to absolute order. I have never had the courage to organise my books according to the colour of their spines but was assured that the academic who followed this colour-guided rule never had any difficulty in finding a book!

Consider what kind of system might enable the section of the library to ‘organise’ those volumes that might fall broadly within the area of pastoral and practical theology. To give a sense of the complexity of this area of theological study, consider the broad headings of volumes that might fall within this section of a library: history and development of pastoral care; textbooks or readers in this area; sociology; psychology; cultural studies; theological reflection; political and public theology; leadership; reflective practice; chaplaincy; ministry and mission; ecclesiology; ethics; self-care and volumes dealing with specific issues (disability, the nature of pain, end-of-life care, etc.).

This review article begins with an acknowledgement of the scope of the field of practical theology. This discipline embraces a number of interconnecting fields. How do they connect? How should practical theology be taught?

It is against this image and these questions that this significant contribution to the literature is reviewed. The book is demanding, informative and fundamentally challenging in its framing of a range of conundrums. The editors and authors are to be commended for consistency and quality across 11 chapters. Practical theology, as we have acknowledged, has a complex identity and a variety of aims and locations. This book seeks to explore how we navigate academic structures that shape and distort intellectual life in this field. It engages our imagination with some arresting images and metaphors. The reader is asked to be a boarder crosser, a boundary walker and even a scavenger that should look for truth in many places.

At heart is this question – what does it mean to be a practical theologian? Mercer and Miller-McLemore gather 11 contributions from American pastoral theologians alongside a Scandinavian pastoral theologian. The areas covered include the theological nature of practice; the use of case studies in practical theological research; the public benefit of scholarship; the nature of reflexivity, normativity and interdisciplinarity in practical theology; racism; the politics and complexity of practical knowledge and the nature of the Roman Catholic contribution to the reframing of practical theology.

The introduction opens up the field by exploring definitions and acknowledging the complicated position and history of the discipline of practical theology. It articulates an ambitious aspiration that hopes practical theologians might be facilitators of change by contributing to the transformation of individual and communal life through putting to work the practices of religious traditions. This narrative holds together a realistic dynamic and tension between academy and context. Pastoral theology involves engagement with the conceptual, the emotional, and the political (3). Good pastoral theology begins in conversation and community. In relation to our sources of information in the work of practical theology, there is a question of naming and even locating the audiences of practical theology. We are asked to consider how far this body of knowledge contributes to the common good in our social and political arenas.

Chapter 1 establishes the importance of experience and practice as a source of theological engagement and knowledge. Theologians in this field must explore how they develop the capacity to show how practice constitutes theological knowledge. A clear sense of distance is maintained between the activity of theological reflection and the work of Christian churches. A broader more outward facing focus should challenge some of the internal contradictions and conflicts of religious institutions. What becomes clear here is the significant distance of thought, culture, and experience between American and European contexts. There are some key questions for us to consider: What is our experience of theology and where and how might we find it boring, irrelevant, or just wrong? How does theology help us or enable us to come to terms with living? How independent should theology be from the church? In what way is theology the servant of the church? (17) This is picked up in more detail in Chapter 3 (The Tension between Scholarship and Service) as Cruz explores the nature of service as empathetic knowing. There is an insightful exploration of the vocation of the reflective practitioner (64–65) with key discussions about ways of knowing and the importance of developing enough intelligence to discern what can be solved and what simply needs to be lived with (79). In this context, the Pastoral theologian needs always to evaluate scholarship and develop the skill of making space for adaptive change in patterns of teaching, learning, and scholarship especially in times of institutional transition (81).

Chapters 2, 6 and 10 by Campbell-Reed, Kaufman, and Turpin highlight the limitations, problems, and difficulties around interpretation. We are reminded by a number of writers in this volume that whenever a story is narrated, there are always issues around power. Our view is limited and interpretation partial. We always only see part of the story. We are asked to consider how far theology runs the risk of self-justification and the extent to which we see the dangers of summarisation – and therefore by implication oversimplification? Campbell-Reed argues that there is a continuing uncritical use of the word theory, which runs the risk of practical theology either overpromising or mispromising what can be delivered. This results in an ongoing maintenance of the split between theory and practice (47).

Turpin offers some useful and practical tools to enable students to reflect on their experience particularly if they are being trained for public ministry. She asks how far meanings are so contextualised to the history of a particular community in time and place that it is difficult to imagine whether it might be translated or related to similar practices elsewhere. Turpin articulates the layers of complexity in shaping an account of local knowledge and describes why this complexity matters both in the context of professional practice and in the ‘production’ of the Christian tradition. It follows that irreducible complexity is a hallmark of the practical wisdom necessary for the discipline. It follows, further, that we need to be observers that are more creative and attentive to the multidimensional realities of lived religion.

In this context, we should attend carefully to the social, cultural, and political challenges posed by the power of racism and the ways in which we devalue and underestimate the diversity and necessity of looking beyond a particular ‘white’ perspective on life. Shepherd explores this in Chapter 9 (Raced Bodies: Portraying Bodies, Reifying Racism) and it has particular relevance in the light of Trump’s election and the decision of the British people to exit the European Union. Here is the core challenge, ‘the vocation of the Christian theologian is to hold tightly the spirit filled, prophetic, critical and creative edge … Our theology must stand with society’s most abject, despised and oppressed. In the twilight of American culture, telling the truth about white racist supremacy is a theological obligation, no matter how cauterizing those truths may be. To speak about theology as truth telling is to accentuate its core responsibility … ’ (245)

In terms of listening to different and too often minority voices, Wolfteich in Chapter 11 offers us a plea to listen more carefully to Roman Catholic contributions and conundrums as she asks how far practical theology has a home in Catholic structures. The reader is reminded about the critical nature of attending to the content of theology as we are asked to explore the development of a theology that moves from life to Christian faith to renewed faith for life. The Roman Catholic tradition has much to offer in this generative task of articulating the content of faith.

The theme of the conundrum (as a puzzle or riddle without an apparent solution, an enigma that baffles, frustrates, and evades resolution) continues throughout the volume but particularly in Chapters 4, 5, and 6. Dreyer (91) reminds the researcher that all knowledge is mediated knowledge, and that there is a constant conflict of interpretation. Bias, researcher subjectivity, and positionality play a role in these interpretations. This is described as a basic epistemological dilemma: ‘the point of this chapter is that reflexivity cannot heal the epistemological wound of researcher subjectivity, bias and personality … Our reflexive efforts will therefore always be trapped between apodictic certainty and perpetual suspicion. This is the conundrum of reflexivity’ (92). Gotto picks up some of these themes as we are asked to appreciate diversity especially in the areas of race and gender. In other words, ‘through whose eyes do we view theology and theological task?’ (116). Researchers should explore the significance of power and privilege within their discipline. Kaufmann (Chapter 6) asks about the nature of normativity. What do we mean when we critique a text as being insufficiently theological or insufficiently normative? He discusses (137) the correlational approach – what should be given priority in a mutual, critical conversation between human experience and theological tradition or normative systematic theology? Where does authority lie? Who decides? Some important connections are made with systematic theology as this chapter asks us to consider the shape and content of our theological anthropology (154)

Finally Chapters 7 and 8, written by the editors (Mercer and Miller-McLemore), explore interdisciplinarity as a practical theological conundrum and the politics of the theory-practice binary. Mercer asks how we are to define interdisciplinarity and in doing so reminds us that practical theology, with its focus on the lived practices of a person and communities within their social contexts, is inherently interdisciplinary, since this kind of work necessitates not only knowledge of theology but also of human personhood alongside social and contextual knowledge. (163)

This takes us into fundamental questions about understanding the nature of personhood and the limits of divine revelation. In dialogue we are bidden to consider that we do not add theology to social science, nor do we add social science to theology. Both are present and interacting in a practical theological analysis of a person or community. Mercer is constantly aware of the complexity of the teacher’s task in enabling students to grasp a complex range of subjects. The skill and contribution of the teacher of practical theology are affirmed, Practical theologians become quite adept, even expert, scanning and selecting the usable element from a much larger canon of literature. We become skilled in the art of collaborating with others who can assist us toward a more appropriate and adequate level of knowledge in a new field we need to employ. (145)

Miller-McLemore reminds us of the modern divorce of academic theology and life (193) adding to the authority of this discipline as one that aspires to empower and transform living and understanding.

This volume of essays is to be commended for its range and scope. The authors are consistently committed to opening up confusing and conflicting problems and questions. Together the volume highlights the state of a discipline in the process, on a journey of discovery and development. Part of establishing our authority within the field of theology will depend upon our ability and preparedness to tackle some of the difficult questions posed here.

I return to those bookshelves and the acknowledgement of the sheer scope of the field and discipline of pastoral and practical theology. This book perhaps encourages us to sit lightly to over defined boundaries and make deeper and more imaginative connections between the disciplines that shape practical theology. While this is not a book for undergraduate study, it is essential reading for researchers and supervisors. It demands close attention and careful reflection. It is the task of practical theology to continue to articulate its conundrums and to attract a range of voices into its life and work.

They can be few families who are not affected by an individual who is engaging with some degree of significant memory loss. For some the prospect of old age is rather haunted by the possibility of having to embrace dementia. Understandably we fear the loss of our memory and its instrumental part of our well-being and personhood.

Jessica Kingsley continues to seek to resource our understanding of dementia, and a compassionate and practical approach to person centred care. This book works on the widespread assumption that activity and engagement are vital to our well-being throughout our lives and this is carried on and through with people living with dementia. Maintaining and developing this activity and engagement is necessary at every stage of our independence and dependence.

The editors draw together a rich and skilled collection of writers and practioners who explore aspects of how particular interventions with people living with dementia can improve and develop quality of life. This volume consistently challenges us to think about what we have to learn from people living with dementia. Underlying this approach is a commitment to the fundamental importance of getting to know the individual well.

Chapter 1 explores and discusses to life story activity that helps an individual document key memories as part of embracing a deeper knowledge of the person and their living. Chapter 2 introduces an intervention designed and developed to encompass a digital approach to reminiscence therapy. Chapter 3 discusses the use of Namaste and how this has helped one particular care home improve well-being and nutrition. We learn about the implementation of empathy dolls in chapter 4 and chapter 5 informs the reader about the introduction of memory Cafés within a home care setting. Chapter 6 explores the introduction programmes of physical activity and in chapter 7 we discover something of the use of guided imagery accompanied by smells and sounds. There is an impressive commitment in all of these case study based chapters to focus on the individual and provide them with an environment within which they can thrive. Chapter 8 discusses the maintenance of daily living skills; chapter 9 reminds us of the importance of environment and chapter 10 evaluates some of this practice-based research.

The editors are clear that this is work in progress emerging out of the Barchester Charitable Foundation. It is distinctive, well written and grounded in practice. It not only offers many practical suggestions about programs and therapies but challenges us to think differently about how best to embrace memory change and memory loss within ourselves and others.

This book should become essential reading for all those who are tasked to provide care for people living with dementia. However I think it also would help families to think through how best to support loved ones.

As ever with Jessica Kingsley Publishing this book is well designed and printed and is easy to read and follow. There is a good index and a comprehensive bibliography.

Westminster Abbey takes its location to serve our national life with utmost seriousness. As well as attracting visitors from across the world the Abbey also seeks to engage with a range of major institutions and public figures, not least the British Parliament.

The Westminster Abbey Institute was founded in 2013 to build and develop mutual concern about the world we live in and what values might shape policy and politics. This volume of essays, carefully organised offer insight into the shape of some of these conversations.

Claire Foster Gilbert is a reflective, engaged and creative public theologian. She sets the scene in the introduction by outlining the shape and content of the book:

‘The essays and dialogues can be read individually or as a collection. They will appeal in different ways. None is intended to moralise, rather to share the skill, the effort, the camaraderie and the humour involved in making robust moral decision, in everything that is involved in sailing the ship wards a good destination, which should, after all, be seen as a profound and defining human endeavour for us all’ (p23)

The first essay, by the former foreign secretary William Hague explores the role of Britain as a moral force on the world stage. He asks us to think about our political vocation has one of service to the international community. There is a refreshing questioning of dogma and a restless openness in his reflections.

Three essays follow, written by Foster Gilbert, with a practical focus offers a framework for moral decision-making with some measure of sophistication and subtlety as the text reminds us that almost all decisions cannot claim moral perfection or indeed understand the consequences of the decisions that we make. There is in the process both virtue and truth but an implicit call for a deeper reflectiveness on analysis, perception and practice. This section of the book asks us all to consider how we nurture moral character.

Mary McAleese, the former president of Ireland is in dialogue with John Hall the Dean of Westminster in a chapter which explores building communities (p93). This need for reconciliation and the absolute necessity for emotional intelligence as we engage with one another is failings offers a deeply attractive appeal to the nurture of shrewdness and humanity. These are so often qualities lacking in some of public life including within our religious organisations.

Vernon White, Canon theologian at Westminster Abbey, offers three pieces, in a section entitled idealism and compromise. How do we live up to our convictions and ideals in a way which understands human fallibility and limitedness? There is a subtlety and depth to White’s writing which demands careful attention.

One of the great public thinkers of our nation, Rowan Williams, offers a reflection on the relevance of Benedict and his example and teaching in the public space of Parliament Square. Benedictine values in public life are then explored by Vernon White (stability) Andrew Tremlett (community) and Claire Foster Gilbert (the conversion of manners). The flow of this text in narrative is carefully integrated across the social, political, cultural, theological and spiritual worlds within which we all move.

Finally, one of our great political historians, Peter Hennessy is featured in conversation with Claire foster Gilbert, which took place during the profoundly destabilising political events of 2016. Here we see the value of a wise and reflective historian infused with a quiet confidence in the abiding transformation of spiritual values.

In the light of this positive review it would seem churlish to pick at (perhaps) obvious limitations ? However there are fundamental questions to be asked about the traction and purchase of such dialogue and reflection. Whose voices matter? Who do we listen to ? Where does power lie? What are the dangers of class complacency as public service is a matter (literally) of life and death for some. How far does our context collude with our view of what might need changing in order to really recover a moral heart? In a nation so divided geographically what hope might there be for a greater diversity of colour, age, sex and experience and an attention to their narratives?

This is of course too much to ask for – but the book stimulated these questions about what needs to change and how it might change. Dialogue and reflection, are important but only one step in building a better future where there is justice, equality and freedom for all.

Jessica Kingsley has done us a great service in publishing this book. It is to be hoped that those of us taken by its quality and depth might find ways of helping individuals and communities access both its content and the quality of its reflectiveness.

Why working with older people in care can be really difficult and what to do about it

Bo Hejlskov Elven, Charlotte Agger and Iben Ljungmann

Jessica Kingsley Publishers 2017 192pp ISBN: 9781785922152

Positive Communication

Activities to reduce isolation and improve the well-being of older adults

Robin Dynes

Jessica Kingsley Publishers 2017

200pp ISBN: 9781785921810

A part of each one of us fears getting older because we see some of the consequences of age in our neighbours, friends and loved ones. This week I came across an older woman in my local shop who was completely lost – unaware of why she was in the shop and what brought her into this part of the town. Amidst the activity of those of us who were shopping few noticed her intense isolation, anxiety and frustration.

Another friend and colleague is struggling with older parents at a distance knowing that their quality of life continues to deteriorate partly as a result of their isolation. Of course this is not to argue that all old age is problematic – an inexorable and irreversible process of diminishment, decline and death. Some enjoy a good old age with health and vitality supported by family and community.

Recent initiatives in raising our awareness of dementia and its consequences has perhaps enabled us to realise some of the challenges that face us all as we befriend age in ourselves and others. It could be argued that what we need is a revolution in the care of older people similar to those who initiated a radical change in the culture of pain control for people living with cancer. This change will only come about if we open ourselves up to a more emotionally and spiritually informed understanding of old age and indeed a readiness to adapt and respond to different approaches to social care.

As ever Jessica Kingsley publishers demonstrate their commitment to innovative and ground-breaking narratives in our approaches to the care of older people.

I was especially interested to read the first book, Confused, Angry, Anxious? which emerges in part out of the experience of engaging older people in Denmark. I was especially impressed with the entrepreneurial approach to housing solutions for older people when I visited Copenhagen about 10 years ago. With characteristic care great attention had been given to design, independence, safety and sense of freedom in this particular community of older people. With similar care these authors explain why it is that older people in care, especially those living with dementia, can become difficult and therefore test our patience. The book aspires to a high aspiration of both longing for kindness and patience that can solve problems both for the older person and those who seek to care. Grounded in psychological theory the authors seek to offer a very wide variety of practical solutions to irrational, aggressive or unreasonably repetitive behaviour. Grounded in the real experience of individuals there is a quality to the organisation of each of these 17 chapters.

Part one sets out some principles. We are led firmly into the arena of identifying the problem alongside an affirmation that we must hold on to the belief that people behave well if they can. Carers must develop self-control for cooperation with the community of care holding onto the possibilities of maintaining self-control.

Part two offers a range of cases and action plans reminding the reader and practitioner that there are a range of social needs to be met and that the older person must be seen within the context of their family unit.

Part three explains with some admirable clarity types of dementia, person centred care and finally offer some study material indicating that the book is clearly informed by a grasp of the range of literature in this area.

Positive Communication is a working handbook designed for facilitators and older adults who want to explore how we might develop self-esteem and encourage personal expression and independence. The activities are all ready to use, practical and to my mind clearly tested out in practice.

A number of areas are tackled. The subheadings of each of the activities are: identifying strengths, interests, hopes and dreams; difficult topics; creativity; communication; memory; spirituality; social communication; writing; remaining active; building confidence and reminiscence. These will give you some indication of the range and scope of each of the 100 exercises.

The author is to be commended for such clear and systematic organisation and the publishers for printing this book with a careful eye to detail, typeface and design. I shall certainly be using some of these exercises in my work as a theological educator in the area of raising consciousness about age awareness and importance of moving beyond information overload in our digitalised age to good human connectivity.

Over 30 years ago I trained for Ministry alongside Stephen at Westcott House in Cambridge. There were three particular things that I remember about Stephen. The first was his reflective intelligence. The second was his readiness always to look beyond the immediate into a broader and wider horizon. The third was his ability as a wordsmith and poet.

Now the Dean of King’s College Cambridge he brings these gifts to bear upon theology and offers us an exploration of the history, shape and relevance of this discipline for our understanding of the world, God and human flourishing. I promise you that these pages will stimulate, irritate and enlarge your thinking. Stephen asks us to go beyond the surface of the soundbite, the sentimental and even trivial world of religious narrative into a compelling and adventurous exploration of religious truth. He shows us in these 10 short chapters what imagination, religious literacy and enthusiasm for God might look like.

Theology is a subject for study in higher education continues to diminish and change much as classics did over the last couple of decades. What we need to do is to recapture commitment and energy for a subject that might equip us to move beyond reductionism and fundamentalism into a way of knowing that enables us to understand and interpret the world. To do this Stephen demonstrates how the Christian tradition can be put to work in a way which is both serious and enjoyable.

Congratulations to Jessica Kingsley for publishing this book and at a reasonable price. I already have a list of people who will receive a copy in due course.

This narrative emerges out of a particular experience, that of the death of the author’s wife, Elsa, from cancer. Marty narrates the life changing trauma at the opening of the book in the preface and then allows this sad music to shape a reading of Scripture which is searching, searing and strong.

A leading US academic, Marty is widely regarded as a key interpreter of religion in America. An ordained Lutheran pastor his theological and spiritual world is shaped by the reformed tradition but not limited by it. Throughout these eight skilfully written chapters he reminds us that institutional and organised religion can so easily mask the face of God and offer an inauthentic spirituality.

The central metaphor, ‘the winter of the heart’ which is captured and explored through the Psalms as a movement of the heart in embracing the loneliness and chaos of pain, loss, evil and the mystery of death. In every chapter the reader is urged onto and into a deeper search for truth; to new horizons of meaning; of attention to unanswered questions together with pain filled silence.

This is, by usual standards and old book, secured via Amazon and printed by them – rather expensively and unsatisfactorily – and I was recommended it by a friend knowing some of my own particular story and some of the theological questions that I continue to ask. At the moment I’m not entirely sure that we are equipped, engaged and open enough to the sheer horror and nothingness of suffering. In this digitalised age we attempt to capture meaning to quickly, to briefly and without enough readiness to stay with the winter, the darkness, the silence. We skate over the ice without being ready to plunge into the dark, cold waters below.

I cannot say whether this book helps in any immediate or obvious way. It reframes some questions and helpfully puts all human struggles into an economy of time and space for those of us who whole to the anchor of faith for hope. There must be, for all of us, a careful attention to the parts of our winter that we too quickly wish to pass through into another season. Perhaps our modern age, our religious and ecclesiastical life are over dominated by the summer at the expense of winter. Our world and our lives need a spirituality that can embrace abandonment, despair and defeat. A winter of the heart may be a source of renewal and change for us and the communities we build. Communion and community are always stronger and wiser when formed out of the trauma of some of our profoundest experiences of loving, living and losing. Love – even in the winter of our hearts – is always stronger than death.

This is, above all, a meditation on the character and presence of God. Is God present? Why is God silent? What does the soul long for? How is God hope for us? These are constant, truthful and searing questions as we attempt to articulate the rhythms of life in a way that trust can be nurtured.

In a world distracted by triviality and the church that can so often fail to be appropriately serious this is a sober narrative of wisdom. Reading books may fail to change the world – but this narrative has transformed my perceptions. For us as early summer blossoms the work of the winter experience of our hearts perhaps begins?

Helping children and adolescents think about death, dying and bereavement

Jessica Kingsley publishers 2016

£16.99

ISBN 9781785920110

Carlo Leget

Art of Living, Art of Dying

Jessica Kingsley publishers 2017

£14.99

ISBN 9781785922114

In the UK in recent weeks there has been a great deal of discussion about the ‘British stiff upper lip’ partly enabled by Prince William and Prince Harry talking openly about their struggles following Princess Diana’s death some 20 years ago. Their honesty about the stark reality of bereavement and coming to terms with unexpected loss has been widely affirmed as part of and need for all of us to pay attention to our inner life and to be honest about our emotional and psychological health.

Of course many of us are sheltered from direct experience of death and dying as the population grows older and, death, perhaps is much less a part of everyday life. It might be interesting to ask whether in past centuries when death was much more part of the experience of people in communities we were more in tune with the rhythms and changes of life – more ready to talk and reflect. Put another way does direct and regular experience of death make us more able or empowered to reflect on loss and deepen our emotional and spiritual intelligence?

One of the organising questions for any of us who write or teach in this area is this: what kind of narrative best enables us to dig more deeply into the human, cultural, emotional and spiritual realities of loss, change and death? What kind of bridges need to be built so that knowledge can be put to work in and through our experience?

Marion Carter is a wise guide putting to use many years of work as an experienced chaplain and theological educator. She has a gift for good organisation, clear description and the constant eye and ear open to practice. Her book is a helpful resource that asks how children can begin to understand death and how adults might support and engage with children as they encounter this complex and bewildering subject.

This volume fills a much needed gap in the literature. Chapters cover the following subjects: What is death? Grief and Bereavement; Factors influencing Grief; Truth telling with children and adolescents; Schools coping with death; Funerals; Continuing care of children and Caring for carers. All of these chapters are supplemented with helpful appendices, a comprehensive reading list and an outline of useful websites and organisations.

Alongside this accessible narrative is another key feature which strengthens the helpfulness of this book. It is the way in which Carter draws in, users and explores experience. The voice of those who are facing bereavement are never very far away from the text. There are helpful activities used to elicit the reader’s experience at the end of each chapter.

Carlo Leget is an ethicist working out of Utrecht in the Netherlands who brings his experience of philosophical discourse and theological narrative to a reader who wishes to create some inner space within which to explore the many faces and meanings of death. He demonstrates that a spiritual care model can help us to discuss and engage with existential questions about death and dying. The aim of this book is to offer a framework within which we might interpret these questions. The author draws on extensive experience and uses his practice to offer a guide to deeper and wiser conversations with both religious and non-religious patients.

The first three chapters open up the framework by exploring the art of dying and our complicated relationship to death. Chapter 3 asks that we attend to the inner space within which the following questions might be explored (these form each of chapters 4 to 8) – who am I and what do I really want? How do I deal with suffering? How do I say goodbye? How do I look back on my life? What can I hope for?

The final two chapters imaginatively and insightfully discuss the mediaeval Ars Moriendi as a model for relating a wiser embrace of life in the light of our mortality.

Leget proves himself to be a wise guide and this book deserves the widest possible readership. I congratulate the editors at Jessica Kingsley for securing the text for publication.

These are good books that need to be read carefully and slowly. However – and in the end – this work of befriending death, embracing loss and change, being more emotionally intelligent about the relationship between living and mortality remains our responsibility. Those of faith would do well to consider how we build communities where this wisdom is part of the nourishing Wells from which people might drink for life and the letting go into new life through death.

With a background in nursing and specialisation in gerontological nursing much of McKinley’s focus over the past years has been on age and spirituality. Her preparation for Ministry nurtured priest and nurse in a commitment to deepening our understanding of the ageing process, its physical and psychosocial needs, and the common disease conditions of older adults. Her body of research work and books have been a fundamental and important part of the growing literature in our developing understanding of spiritual care.

MacKinley has brought into this commitment her own belief system and managed to hold both Christian conviction within the context of a secular environment in such a way as to demonstrate the core significance of the spiritual as part of enriching human flourishing for all older adults.

The book has 19 chapters with a number of helpful figures and tables illuminating a range of discussions which include the relationship of spirituality to health and well-being; meaning in life; images of God; the spiritual journey in ageing; humour and laughter and spirituality in ageing; isolation; cognitive decline and the nature of professional engagement in this area of support and care.

The second edition of this book is a welcome resource for all of us who are teaching, learning and research. MacKinley puts her learning to use in a meaningful, coherent and insightful way. Those of us who know her work will bear testimony to its capacity to change thinking and practice.

I write this short notice after a brief look over the Sunday newspapers. Misunderstanding, disconnection, prejudice and sometimes sheer blindness seem to characterise our human relationships. The information technology revolution does not seem to have enabled us to deepen our understanding of making human relationships work. Although this book, technical in its scope, will be used mainly by social work students and practitioners the implications of its methodology are far-reaching.

The book draws on psychodynamic, relational, discourse analytical and systemic understandings of research and practice. The thesis grounded in a range of accessible and stimulating case studies suggests that as we dig deeper into our understanding of roles and relationships we move into the heart of a co-creation of knowledge in practice research. As a teacher and facilitator this collection of 12 essays has enabled me to look at learning and the way in which we are both enabled and disabled into new areas of knowledge by our own limited views and perspectives.

The essays examine a number of case studies of research projects carried out in England and Finland. In an age when we do not examine with enough wisdom and intelligent critique the dependability of sources of knowledge this useful and insightful collection of essays will deepen and integrate knowledge in the teaching of research and practice.

This is a surprising book in so far as it, at first glance, appears to be a technical collection of essays written by experts in the field of dementia and psychology. It makes a distinctive contribution to the literature and is carefully edited and well organised. However it is also attractive in so far as it gives expression to a deep commitment to compassion and a desire to enhance well-being for those who are engaged in the attempt to hold the person as the focus omits the debilitating and challenging that dementia poses for both the individual and our wider communities. The book is targeted at psychologists, therapists, academics and those working in dementia care. It is to be hoped that the passion and energy with which the individual is attended to might shape attitudes and practice.

This is the first time I have read and reviewed such a book that examines the experience of dementia with regard to creativity, resilience, wisdom, hope and well-being. All the writers here embrace a radical commitment to dignity and the necessity to see the person beyond and within the disease. There are significant challenges to the medicalisation of our approach to health and social care that deserve further reflection. In other words how might the approaches captured here be delivered in every day diagnosis and support across the country?

There are 12 chapters in this volume that merge from the University of Hull. Chapter 1 sets the scene by exploring ageing health and what is described as positive psychology. Later life for all of us will mean some significant challenges to living well and we need to explore these dimensions of our health prospects sooner rather than later! Some of these themes are opened up in chapters 2 and 3 where positive psychology and its contribution to an approach to dementia are explored together with the nature of well-being in dementia.

A number of informative and creative chapters follow exploring hope, humour, resilience, growth, creativity, and spirituality. Tony Ryan and Mike Nolan explore positive psychology and relational dementia care in chapter 10. Chapters 11 and 12 complete the collection with an outline of possible ways forward for this approach to dementia. The book is clear, relatively easy to read and with one or two exceptions provides comprehensive referencing. The usefulness of the book is enhanced with excellent subject and author indexes.

This is an excellent, innovative book that sets its narratives into a wide perspective. I hope it will become essential reading for anyone who wishes to explore how best to enable and empower both person and systems into a positive experience of both dementia and the delivery of dementia care.

Sarum Centre for Formation in Ministry (Reviewing Becoming a Reverend)

There persists a certain curiosity about clergy with some fixed stereotypes about what kind of people we are or should be. The language, structure and culture of ‘Church’ remains persistently inaccessible and sometimes just incomprehensible.

Matt Woodcock is a wise, honest, amusing and candid writer who puts all of his journalistic experience to work in this readable and grounded book. At Sarum College where we have the privilege of forming a new generation of women and men for ministry we work hard together to integrate our lives, the seriousness of the role and the challenges of ministry into a loving whole. Rigidities, false personas and unhealthy religion need to be challenged. We know this process as formation for ministry.

‘Becoming Reverend’ is a diary of a journey from discernment and selection for training for ministry, through struggling to become a Father and attempting to reconcile his party-loving football-filled lifestyle to ordination and parenthood. There is a deep sense of likeability about Matt as he races through these experiences with energy and enthusiasm. He commends and models and infectiousness about faith and a real desire to take that faith to the edges and beyond the edges of institutional Christianity. Here is a person who you can talk about God to and be assured that you are not fobbed off with trivial, complacent or sentimental responses.

This is also, in part, a narrative about Matt his and wife Anna’s struggle to parenthood, through IVF treatment. He is honest about their pain and the frustrations and disappointments of the IVF process. Matt’s gift, in part, is it is relationality formed in the pub, amongst his fellow ordinands, in the lecture room and together in prayer in the chapel. He has a sharp eye and an open heart that sees possibilities and opportunities with the energy to inject new life and optimism into tired attitudes and entrenched theological dogma.

There can be for those called to public ministry and over intense religiosity that constantly seeks to assert its self-importance. All of us, at all stages of our discipleship, need to be reminded that it isn’t just about us! We need to point to something richer, deeper and wiser in our proclamation of the Kingdom of God. This means sometimes that we should not take ourselves too seriously and follow Matt’s example of laughing at our own absurdity and self-importance.

Laughter is a gift from God and it has an extraordinary ability to cut through our control, activity and lack of perspective.

You’ll enjoy this book so do look out for it in our bookshop and those of us who read it will be wondering what next from the curate in Hull!

It will be a great privilege to welcome guests to the Sarum College Bookshop for the launch of Michael Perham’s latest book, The Way of Christ-Likeness.

This practical and theological companion to Lent, Holy Week and Easter offers advice on creatively using the church’s most dramatic and transformative liturgies. It explores how commemorating Jesus’ death and resurrection is more than a reminder of the essentials of our faith, but also enables us to enter the familiar stories and discover their power to make us more Christlike in the painful events of life.

Michael Perham was Bishop of Gloucester until 2014. He is a former member of The Church of England Liturgical Commission, and is now Assistant Bishop in the Diocese of Salisbury, and Visiting Scholar at Sarum College. He is the author of a number of books on the study and practice of liturgy.

Here is my introduction to this remarkable writer and liturgist.

Michael Perham

Michael has a lifelong love of liturgy and has published very widely. His books are among the most popular of their genre. Michael has embraced the remarkable developments born of the liturgical movement and translated them into pastoral and practically rooted support for clergy and laity alike. A new book from Michael is always a cause for excitement – he has been at the forefront of the liturgical revolution.

We talk a lot about pilgrimage and journey we know it is a helpful metaphor. Michael is the person who knows why and how it matters. For him, following the way of Christ is not a misty eyed commitment to the far horizon, but a deeply practical commitment to the liturgy and rhythms of the church. He loves and understand those routines and, using them, he rehearses the life of Christ and fits his own life into the gospel. It gives him a confidence and a grace that we admire.

He is an accomplished teacher. He is a visiting scholar of Sarum College, holds the Presidency of the Alcuin Club and has recently received the Cranmer award from the Archbishop of Canterbury. Bishop Michael welcome to Sarum College and we look forward to hearing more about this work.

I happen just to have returned from the Swindon office of BBC Wiltshire where I was tasked to review the Sunday papers. I turn now to catching up on some pieces of writing but especially book reviews that have been sat on my desk for too long.

Reading the Sunday newspapers reminds me that we live in a complex world struggling to make sense of itself and easily distracted by trivia and gossip. On a morning that saw the devastation of many lives in Istanbul and continues to grieve over Syria and the prospect for world peace we learn of celebrities and their unfaithfulness and there is extensive coverage of the Prime Minister and her dress sense. Much of the excitement that is being generated around Christmas is inevitably preoccupied with the commercial necessity of selling and buying gifts alongside a great deal of speculation about the relative popularity of each of our TV stations competing for viewing figures.

It is against this background that I offer this short review of very important book that explores the narratives and differences between those who find some spiritual sense and meaning to existence and those that do not. Paul Hedges is an extraordinarily fluent, courteous and wise writer. He covers a great deal of ground with admirable brevity and clarity. In particular the text is shot through with examples and theories that ground the discussion and debate over eight chapters.

Hedges in Chapter 1 sets the debates inner broad context and this is followed in Chapter 2 by the important subject of how we read and give authority to particular texts and the beliefs contained therein. Chapter 3 deals with authority figures in religion, but, in particular the figure of Jesus. We note that history is not just simply about their lives but the way in which their lives have been understood both inside and outside of their traditions. Chapter 4 looks at the variety of beliefs and non-beliefs which exist and asks how far we can give any credibility to such beliefs in a historical and contemporary context. In particular Hedges tackles head-on the problem of evil.

Chapter 5 attempts a balanced view about whether religion is in the end of force for good. Hedges deals with the legacy, both positive and negative of our religious heritage. Chapter 6 deals with the vexed question of women, sexuality and for many the negative views of much of religion around the Body. Chapter 7 deals with a variety of disputes between science and religion as well as environmental concerns. Finally Chapter 8 addresses the number a number of factors in our contemporary world with a realistic hope that humankind might wish to live together for the common good. This world might be characterised by a maturity that can to embrace difference and disagreement.

The result is a readable and accessible book that I shall be commending to my students here at Sarum College. In particular I think that it would be of practical use to A-level students or undergraduates wanting to explore the nature of religion. This text will certainly inform the development of our learning life here in Sarum College.

Whitman has gathered together 23 people from diverse backgrounds and in a well-organised book there is a deeply moving range of accounts of experiences of living with dementia. There is honesty and a searing articulation of frustration and fear. The cumulative effect of the devastating impact of memory loss on people’s lives is both moving and disturbing. The individual accounts of how identity is broken down and reframed service as a reminder of the life changing effects of dementia on people and their families.

My only regret about this text is that it probably will not receive as wide a readership as it might. We need surely to embrace this devastating condition as belonging to the whole community as we attempt to work out what makes the human flourishing as we hold all those who are vulnerable. It demands that we refashion what it might mean to be human and limited and bounded by our bodies and brains. In other words all of us can learn about how to live well as we attend to those who struggle to maintain well-being. There is a quality, integrity and life to these accounts which we can all learn from.

I should also add that there is a comprehensive and helpful range of resources and further reading at the back of the book along with a clear glossary. Let Prof Graham Stokes have the final word (global director of dementia care at BUPA)

“for some who read this book the experience will be an epiphany. Therefore might it be possible that what we do to help a person with dementia, in some way to be kind to them, is diminished only by the limits we place on our ambition, imagination and humanity’ ( page 259).

Kate Swaffer was 49 years old when she was diagnosed with dementia. In this book, she
describes her experiences of living with dementia, exploring the effects of memory difficulties, loss of independence, leaving long-term employment, the impact on her teenage sons, and the enormous impact of the dementia diagnosis on her sense of self.

There is a profoundly challenging honesty about the experience and especially the stigma associated with dementia and the many inadequacies in care and support. Kate wants to change the way we both think about and respond to dementia and offers some radical suggestions about how a community might hold all those who because of dementia are taken into the difficult area of needing to develop a new and meaningful personal identity.
Let Kate have the final word here: and as I share it I hope to that this book will be very widely read.

These two books remind us that as well as listening to the experiences of people living with dementia there are significant political, economic and social challenges to improving and developing care.

I picked up the first book (Qigong for well-being in dementia and ageing by Stephen Rath JKP 2015 168 pages £15.99) with some ambivalence and curiosity but soon moved beyond misunderstanding and prejudice to see how traditional Chinese medicine can support emotional and physical well-being in people with dementia. This book presents a set of exercises and breathing techniques which I tried and found them to be very restorative! The book is carefully illustrated and deserves some careful attention amidst our reductionist and medicalized approach to care.

Person Centred Dementia Care (by Dawn Brooker and Isabel Latham JKP 2015 224pages £17.99) has very quickly established itself as a leading textbook in guiding healthcare professionals to improve care from diagnosis to the end of life for people with dementia. It embraces a range of contexts and offers guidelines for practice. It is well written, carefully organised and accessible for a busy healthcare professional. The text is clearly earthed in reflective practice and draws upon up-to-date research and development in this area.

Although at first glance a technical book with a limited market the authors open up a refreshingly broad grasp of an individual living with dementia and each of the chapters lead us into a richer understanding of what person centred care should look like. There are many places in my own experience where I should like to take this book and ask that it be used to change care.

This book has been with me over the past few weeks and my reading of it has been shaped by a number of events and experiences. First I attended a celebration of 35 years of a LGBTI support group that had been running in Southampton. It was a rich mixture of looking backwards and forwards in relation to inclusivity and equality. It was particularly important to be reminded of the long struggle that many LGBTI people have had in relation both of coming to terms with their identity but also especially some recognition and affirmation by church and society. Sometimes it is very important for theology to listen carefully to the marginalised and those whose voices have struggled to be heard and understood.

As I write (November 2016) Anglican bishops are gathering for ongoing conversations about sexuality within the Church of England. This meeting is set against ongoing serious concerns about discipline in these matters expressed by the group GAFCON. You can read more about the debates via the Thinking Anglican website (www.thinkinganglicans.org.uk)

This is a carefully written book. It is reflective, open, biblically and theologically informed with a real desire to see the church as a place of wisdom and openness to all human beings. Amazing Love has been written by Davison, in collaboration with Duncan Dormer, Ruth Harley, Rosie Harper, Elizabeth Phillips, Jeff Phillips, Simon Sarmiento, Jane Shaw and Alan Wilson. Mark Russell provides an illuminating and insightful preface.

The question that should continue to perplex us is this: how are we to resolve the seemingly impossibly irreconcilable views amongst Christians on the subject of human sexuality. The debate some conversations have become toxic in their intensity. There is an obvious struggle for power and a deep distrust of voices and perspectives that differ or contradict one’s own. Put another way how progressive can Christianity afford to be? How are we to understand the growth in those churches that continue to base their moral teaching on what might be described as a Conservative and scriptural base? How are we to belong together and live together with such diversity and contestation?

The authors of Amazing Love offer a balanced and moderate discussion of some of these issues and questions in a real desire to hold a common ground where all can participate and belong. However there is a political dimension to this short text as the book is part of the wider programme of LGBTI Mission, whose goals are same-sex marriage in churches, and full access to all in such marriages. The need for change is “urgent”, it says. “Dragging our feet is neither sensible, nor ethical.”

I have recommended this book to a number of people who are both confused and distressed by this ongoing debate. It handles the question of the relationship between theology and science with care and reflectiveness. It points to a more intelligent handling of Scripture as the basis for our moral decision-making. Scripture needs to be interpreted in the light of our understanding of humankind, personality and sexual orientation. We need also, the book argues, to see how Christian moral thinking has changed. We see a picture of Christianity here as an unfolding and developing framework of truth. For example on slavery: “It took time — far too much time — for Christians to connect their understanding of the good news with their views on slavery.”

The authors are not unsympathetic to the way in which people argue around difference. We are reminded that many of the loudest voices constantly argue in a one-dimensional way. We need both Scripture and experience to engage dialogically in order to provide a firm foundation upon which sustainable Christian community can be built.

The most persuasive and perhaps even heartbreaking chapter is the final one which focuses on mission. We are reminded that equality and diversity are normative values in all public contexts apart from the Church. We are losing whole generations of young people who believe that the church is not only irrelevant but dangerous in its prejudice and exclusion. This damage is potentially irreparable. It is no wonder that there is so much hurt and pain around! Fundamentalist extremism is bedding itself within the public imagination and religion runs the risk of being part of such a negative picture.

And so the debate continues in this book is a genuinely helpful contribution to the literature.

It has taken me some time to digest this book and so commend it to others for both reflection and action.

Laurie Green has established a well-deserved reputation for his ministry amongst the poor and voiceless but also for his ability to think theologically. The book took me backwards into my story but also catapulted me forwards ainto imagining what kind of society we are building. Within the tension between history and the future lies the key element in Greens persuasive, compelling and radical arguments in these nine chapters. I shall say more about that in a moment but one point at the outset is worth making. There is a quality to this narrative that is borne out of a life well lived and a text written in ‘retirement’ which leads me to feel that older people reflecting on their experience should have a much more honoured place and voice in our spiritual economy. There is some maturation and deep wisdom present in the way in which Green listens to the cry of the poor. Valuing Age might also mean moving older people voices into the forefront of social action.

Why should such a text take me backwards? Well, in the mid-1980s and after theological education in London and Cambridge I was ordained in the Diocese of Durham to serve my curacy in Consett. You may remember that it one stage in our economic history (1985)Winchester was regarded as the wealthiest place in the country and Consett the poorest – this was the case because of the closure of the steelworks and the catastrophic consequences for thousands of workers across the area. By the time I had arrived many of the more entrepreneurial families had taken their redundancy money and relocated either in different parts of the country or across the north-east in new jobs. Some had resolutely stayed in the town that they were born in and felt inextricably connected with and thereby presenting a real picture of economic, social, cultural and spiritual poverty. It was a cold and bleak place and a living or dying reminder of the results of political policy that devastated huge sections of the industrial north. An example, quite simply, of the power and persuasiveness of economics over individuals and families. Money talks – people should listen!

Green reflects on this and takes us inside many stories of hardship and dismay. Green acts as an advocate for the forgotten residents of Britain’s housing estates and their devaluing marginalisation. At the centre of all of this are the experience and stories of poor people.

And what of the future trajectory? The advantage of having this book on my desk for so long before I dispatch it to the library for wider readership and use is that it has seen and experienced the decision of this country to remove itself as a member of the European Union. We live in uncertain times and it remains to be seen which parts of the community will bear the inevitable (perhaps?) consequences of our post Brexit world. I suspect that it will be the poor again who will pay some of the price of the economic and social uncertainty that faces this democratic position. We are faced again with Greens plea outlined in chapter 5 about how we challenge the present culture by seeking to lead a kingdom orientated life together. This book demands that we explore what are kingdom values might look like and how we challenge those things that contradict and undermine equality, justice, decency, faithfulness and goodness.

This book draws upon what Laurie Green has learnt – in a kind of long meditation on the beatitude ‘bless are you who are poor’. It stands in a noble tradition of Anglican antagonists who long to develop a new tradition that seeks to learn from the poor and so offer a new theology that might enable the merging our past and our future into a more sustainable present. It is nothing short of a tragedy that we continue to tolerate such significant levels of poverty in our country today. While there are churches involved in social action and care of the marginalised and vulnerable we continue to live with an economic system that forces some people to live in the most appalling conditions. Not to keep on articulating the contradictions and paradoxes of this reality is, to return to an earlier analogy, to move Greens book from desk to library. Put another : way what is to be done now? Are we listening to the voices of the Poor? Are they to be our teachers? Perhaps it is the case that as long as we ignore these complex realities we ourselves become poorer as individuals and as communities.

Green is at his most creative in showing his reader how to be confident in theology and how, above all, to put it to work. It should become a core textbook for all those interested in enabling individuals and groups to become reflective practitioners.

Vulnerability and Care: Christian Reflections on the Philosophy of Medicine

I have recently seen at close hand the work a busy acute hospital having to deal with an older person suffering multiple challenges to well-being caused in the main by intense confusion as a result of the Alzheimer’s disease. The result was shocking and frustrating. Although, of course, a one-off situation which was intensified by my own sense of powerlessness and my personal pain at the way this person was treated – I suspect that this experience is not uncommon and may well be replicated across the National Health Service. We keep on being told that the NHS is in crisis principally for financial reasons but the central organizing question this book suggests that there challenges are also moral : it asks is how we care for vulnerable people in such a way as to deepen compassion and alleviate suffering.

For this reader the book came at the right time. It offers wisdom and a wider theological view. Andrew Sloane deserves gratitude and praise for a powerful narrative that asked this question: can the focus of modern medicine change? The implication is that if it does not its very soul is in jeopardy. In the light of my own experience the reader will understand why this plea resonated so deeply and profoundly in my soul.

To return to the anecdotal – I remember during my time teaching at the Birmingham University medical school exploring with groups of students how far their ethical teaching and curriculum help them make decisions. Since those teaching days a great deal of attention has been given to public and academic debate about medical and bioethical issues. Those groups of students and young doctors taught me that they relied as much on intuition (I need to respond quickly and so do what I feel is right) as much as the body of knowledge classified as medical ethics. Sloane takes one step back from the issue of the relationship between theory and practice and asks his reader to explore the nature of medicine and its role in human community.

The nine chapters seek to put theology to work by offering a framework of Christian philosophical and theological thinking which might enable us to understand the nature and purposes of medicine and its role in a Christian understanding of human society.

So what does the book do?

First it presents a description of the contexts in which medicine is practiced in the early 21st century, identifying key problems and challenges that medicine must address. It then turns to issues in contemporary bioethics, demonstrating how the debate is rooted in conflicting visions of the nature of medicine (and so human existence). This leads to a discussion of some of the philosophical and theological resources currently available for those who would reflect ‘Christianly’ on medicine.

The core of the text attempts to articulate a Christian view of medicine as a moral practice which might be shaped by a Christian social vision and a number of key theological commitments.

The book concludes with some powerful pedagogical reflections (pp 178 ff ). First Sloane asks that if it is the case that medicine is an expression of community solidarity with those whose vulnerability is exposed and if its goal is to express appropriate forms of care for the frail then we should rethink how we train doctors. In terms of medical epistemology, the internal goods of medicine and their relationship to other goals always threaten to distort or corrupt the practice of medicine. And in this we all need to take responsibility in relation to our wildly unrealistic expectations about what medicine can deliver.

A final theme, and possibly to be developed in his future writing lies, in the embodied nature of medicine. If we are ‘knowing bodies’ then doctors in partnership with their patients need to understand what is going on in the body: to listen carefully to the story of our bodies as to discern both what matters and how we might embrace frailty and nurture wholeness. The undue focus on investigations, the obsession with tasks and performance both detract from the human element of the clinical encounter and (in Sloane’s view) wrongly understand the nature and goals of medical knowledge. This reflects an ongoing interest in a number of public bodies in the UK concerning the medical humanities and how these might be built into a more holistic approach of nurturing both medicine and the medical profession. Medical paternalism and powerful self protecting professionalism needs to be challenged if the world of medicine is to be re-engaged and transformed. However this will require from us that we reconfigure what medicine can and cannot do for us.

This is a stimulating and enriching book. It is inevitably stronger on theory rather than practice but its call and argument is clear and convincing. It deserves to be picked up and developed by those of us who seek wholeness and all those professional groups that are tasked to care for those in need.